


Idlefoot - The Deep Space 9 MIX

by bmouse



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Gen, Humor, angst-free zone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-15
Updated: 2012-09-15
Packaged: 2017-11-14 07:08:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/512652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bmouse/pseuds/bmouse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Quark's latest side business scheme is a nostalgic arcade. DS9, meet DDR.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Idlefoot - The Deep Space 9 MIX

**Author's Note:**

> So people who have never played Dance Dance Revolution, I apologize since this will probably be incomprehensible. (also, go play it it's great!) I was overworked and sick all week and everyone was writing all these poignant heartbreaking ficbits and all I really wanted was dancing and mostly happy crack.

\- - - - A-Side: “Deep Space 9 MIX” - - - - - - - - - - - -

It was a known pattern that every once in a while Quark got restless and tried to add a little something extra to his food-drinks-contraband revenue stream. Over the years Benjamin Sisko has been the deeply skeptical witness to a massage parlor ( lasted one day, Odo having diplomatically informed the temple vedeks who immediately found an indecency _and_ a zoning law against it), a hair salon (Morn was unimpressed) and a pet hotel (soon nicknamed the Pit of Voles). This latest nostalgia arcade business didn’t seem too bad at first glance. Rom had been wiring it up for weeks, very hush-hush and the grand opening was certainly packed; Starfleet folk and the general population crowding the semi-antique consoles, shouts of “Hey my grandma told me about this one!” and suchlike echoing through the converted holosuite room. Regrettably mostly directed toward things he’d played as a kid.

The real hit of the evening turns out to be one he’s never seen. A setup of two three by three grids lit up from below with a set of curving bars in front, the whole thing topped off by twin telescreens. 

A pair of Bajoran teenagers were jumping up and down on the grid squares as a complicated arrangement of colored arrows flickered across the screens in front of them. It looked ridiculous. Unfortunately this was definitely one of those morale-raising occasions where he was expected to provide an example for the troops, being egged on by the pretty lady he’s there with doesn’t help.

Shortly afterwards, staring at the giant flashing red “FAIL” he is forced to conclude that it was perhaps, not his best example. Oh none of the officers makes so much as a peep but his date throws her head back and laughs.

"Oh Ben honey, step back. You know every refueling station from here to Corel 6 has got one of these.“ 

A minute later she glides her way through a sequence that fills the screen solid with arrows, leans coyly against the handrail on the instrumental rest.

"And you have high scores on each and every one of them." he fills in. 

Kasidy winks.

Two songs later she yields the floor to Lieutenant Dax. Major Kira lounges against the adjoining bar. She doesn’t get up on the player 2 platform but no one else quite has the nerve to take it either.

“So is this something Curzon got up to on a regular basis? I know he wasn't exactly sedate but.. Or maybe Tobin got to try these back when they first started making them?”

Eyes fixed on the loading intro Dax gives her friend a slightly subdued version of her usual 300-year-old-Sphinx smile.

"Actually whenever she could get away from the Institute Jadzia liked to go to arcades."

The song starts, blares, halfway between a festival parade and a battle hymn. Unexpectedly, she's not flawless at it but her joy is infectious. She makes the little arm motions, does the extra flourishes that turn it from a game into a dance and Kira passes up her turn so she can watch her do another. Kira's not the dancing type anyway.

While Worf does concede that the old Terran rhythm game might make a decent source of endurance training, no amount of bloodwine or triple-dog-challenge-to-your-honor dares is enough to get him to try it. 

The Chief hangs on gamely but is defeated by a Galian remix of the Rocky Road to Dublin. Playing with a synthale in hand while trying to sing along to the chorus may have contributed.

Doctor Bashir turns up after his shift and manages a five footer, flashing the onlookers a boyish grin at his three digit combo which morphs into an equally boyish scowl as the rankings fade in.

“Who the devil is Leroc of Pemoria is what I'd like to know...” he mutters squinting at the first name on the list.

At the end of the evening Odo is the only one who manages to crack the top five though a cheerful drunken argument breaks out over his technique.

“In preparation for tonight I have reviewed the original manuals for this gaming console very diligently and there was nothing to suggest that only solid-state players are valid.” he rumbles confidently, re-forming his feet. 

There’s supposed to be a strict turn limit but Quark is happily dueling his brother on a glitchy 3D version of “The Price is Right” so the evening stretches into night. People forget about the war, tossing rings, stomping on pads, reeling in virtual fish. There’s still morning to remember everyone who wasn’t there, morning to tally up the profits but something tells Benjamin Sisko this arcade thing might stick around for a while. 

 

\- - - - B-Side: “Idlefoot” - - - - - - - - - - - -

 

They've been doing life support maintenance in the habitat rung above his quarters. He's all for increased efficiency, anything to make the station air seem less stale, but the old familiar pattern of air currents changes and he's awake immediately with a split second to understand the reason and a few more after holstering the phaser to feel moderately pleased with himself. Imprisoned he may be, but not rotting away just yet.

Sleep would be difficult at this point and so he dresses, departs, indulges himself with a quick stroll past the oblivious night shift to the site of his latest little hobby. The heavy door is well oiled from his previous visits and it slides back almost soundlessly. Inside, the machine is bright, inviting. Reflections from the screen splash color across the floor.

Quark would be far too cheap to leave it on at this hour.

He should be alarmed. Perhaps, more correctly, the person trapped in an enclosed space with him should be alarmed but there is a familiar scent in the room that removes violence from consideration.

"Good evening, Doctor! Well, I suppose morning would be more appropriate."

Julian Bashir unbends, somewhat comically, from where he'd been crouched behind the “Galactic Bass Fishing IX” console. His arm is raised in a dramatic pointing gesture.

"Ha! I knew it! Pemoria is a species of Cardassian water lily, colloquially "idlefoot." That's barely two layers of encoding, you might as well have shouted it over the comm!"

Garak beams at him. 

"Actually, Leroc was an obscure local folk hero who used to be a tailor before heeding the call of the Prophers." He adds another fraction to the width of his smile "Though your dedicated botanical research is much appreciated."

Ignoring his now-sputtering companion he hops up onto the platform scrolling through the selection. It’s springtime, back home and he’s been full of restless energy lately so Quark's little venture really has been well timed There's hardly a song he hasn't played through by now so he picks an old favorite. Oh the lyrics are absurd but it has a lovely complicated baseline. Thoughtfully enough, someone had already turned on the two player mode.

"Whenever you're ready." he calls out, over his shoulder "Though I'm afraid six feet might be a stretch for you, my dear."

Ah! There it is, that confident stride! That adorably affronted face he hasn’t seen nearly enough of lately and he flexes his toes once, in pleased anticipation as the Doctor reaches out and punches the start button so hard it rattles.

 

\- - - end - - -


End file.
